We were mad, quite mad about digging holes
as if we should name our gang: ‘Holes is Us’.
There came a time of year, can’t say when exactly,
when we congregated at Hockings corner
under the street light and decided it was time,
time to dig in the soft sand near the wagon works.
The tide came in and the hole filled with water,
the tide ebbed and we scurried around digging
tunnels, Tommy, being the smallest, was put
in the first and made to sit until he bawled
and old Mr Fowler cursed us boys for utter
stupidity, ‘It could have collapsed,’ he told
our mothers and they in turn informed
fathers who sat by their fires reading
newspapers, and that was the end of that.

Like the colloquial feel of this.. I like the fathers simply reading their papers, but I was looking for something stronger than “that was the end of that”. Maybe they could be reading the day’s headlines of........... the headlines providing the punchline